Perfect Sonnet
by MarielleAine
Summary: Just a short story centered at the Burrow about Ron's feelings after 4th year... RHr kind of....


"Perfect Sonnet"

Sarimi Evolity

A/N: This is my first Harry Potter fan fic, but hopefully not my last. Centered at the burrow, the summer after 4th year.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or the song, "A Perfect Sonnet", by _Bright Eyes_.

Arthur Weasley slowly walked through the door to his home after a long days work in the Ministry. Since the return of You-Know-Who in the recent weeks, he'd been putting up even more overtime, trying to see to Dumbledore's requests in anyway he could. He was honored when the revered wizard had asked him for help. He quietly fell into a cozy chair in his living room and kicked off his shoes. He pointed his wand toward his feet and mumbled something under his breath when a tub of warm water appeared beneath them. He let out a satisfied sigh as the warmth enclosed around his aching feet. The house around him was quiet, it was well after dinner time when he'd arrived home. He was nestling further into the chair, enjoying the peace and quiet when a hand touched his shoulder.

"Arthur! You're home finally!" Exclaimed an exuberant Mrs. Weasley. A bit surprised, he just nodded, receiving the kiss she placed on his mouth.

"I know you'd like some dinner, I'll zap the leftovers up for you." He smiled contently as a steaming plate of food appeared on a small tray on his lap. Mrs. Weasley sat on the couch across from him. Mr. Weasley happily dug into the mashed potatoes in front of him. He was shoveling bite after bite of the morsels into his mouth when he felt his wife's eyes upon him. He looked up, knowing she wanted something, and trying to look helpless.

"Arthur…" she said in a hushed tone. 

"Mm, yes, Molly?" He asked, knowing something was troubling the woman.

"It's Ron… you're never home during the day, so I suppose you don't really notice the difference…" He looked at her quizzically. She pointed her finger up their staircase to a closed door. 

It was nearly 12 midnight, why shouldn't Ron's door be closed and him asleep within the room? Mr. Weasley pondered to himself.

"He barely leaves that room of his, just comes down 'round noon to eat _breakfast_ and heads back up. I don't know what he could be doing in there. He doesn't even respond when Fred and George try to tease him out to come and play them at Exploding Snap Trap or something of the sort. I'm worried, Fred and George's taunts usually have him breaking out the door and running down the hall after them." 

Mr. Weasley pondered for a moment. "I reckon he's just had a dramatic year…. Rest and relaxation will do the boy good." 

"I suppose. He must be feeling crummy without his friends as well." Her eyes wandered to her husbands face, a pleading look already set there.

"Arthur could you do something special for him, make him cheer a bit?" she asked hopefully. 

"Well, I'll see what I can do." He replied, shifting his eyes back to the food signifying the end of their conversation. 

~

"Stupid git." Ron muttered to himself, lying on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. "Make such stupid decisions… act so freaking stubborn and mule-headed…." It was around nine o'clock in the evening and he was moping on his bed beating himself up. He gritted his teeth and screamed inwardly. 

"I can't even hate him properly!" He yelled to himself, remembering that day just a few weeks ago as he left his 4th year of Hogwarts. _"Can I have your autograph?"_ He mocked himself. 

"Ronald Weasley, come and eat this instant! You're going to starve up there!" He heard his mother's voice. Groaning, he rolled off the bed and tumbled out the door, still pajama clad with his hair sticking up on one side. He passed through the family room, where Ginny sat reading a book. She eyed him warily as he passed; of course everyone else had eaten long ago. 

He sat down in front of a plate of food, looking up and noticing both parents sitting at the table across from him. 

"Dad, you're home!" He grinned slightly. 

Mr. Weasley chuckled. "Yeah, I wanted to come home early and see my family before they were all in bed." He winked. "Of course, some of my children never leave their beds. It's a bit difficult, as you can surely see." 

"Ha ha." Ron laughed dryly, picking up his fork to eat.

"Hey, Ron, I saw something the other day and thought of you." Mr. Weasley said abruptly. Mrs. Weasley gave him a sly, pleased look from next to him. Ron looked at his father curiously as he pulled a large, strangely shaped object he'd never seen before. It's body was shaped somewhat like an 8, but uneven, and there was a hole in the bottom part. From the top part shot up a board of sorts with a fancy design at the end and white hooks on them. 6 long strings were pulled tightly down the center, and ended at the bottom of the hole. The whole thing seemed to be made of wood.

"What's this?" He asked.

"It's a guitar!" Arthur boomed, jovially. 

"Gui-tar…" Ron repeated absently. 

"It's a muggle musical instrument. Produces a beautiful sound…" he tried strummed the strings and a booming horrible sound came from it. Ron heaved a sigh, leave it to his father to bring him a muggle present. However, he was intrigued by it. 

"Well, I suppose you must practice first." He said, blushing a bit.

"What are those hooks for?" Ron asked, pointing at the white things protruding from the top board.

"They're _knobs_, Ron. They help tune the guitar…" Ron was giving him a blank look.

"Well, I've picked up a book for you to help you, because I won't be any help to you. Thought you might have fun with this during the long boring summer days." Arthur grinned, handing Ron a large book titled, "A Wizard's Guide to Muggle Instruments". 

"Thanks, Dad." He was sincerely touched by his fathers attempts to make him happy, he knew everyone was wondering what was going on. He'd heard Ginny downstairs talking about it with Fred and George. 'It's probably just hormones.' They'd told her. He could imagine the look of disgust on her face.

After he'd finished eating he went upstairs to his room, taking the guitar and book with him. He wanted to know just how this strange thing worked.

When he got there he opened the book and turned to the first page marked "guitar". It gave a short history of its origins and described its basic purpose. The next page were instructions on how to properly play the instrument. The moving pictures to the side of each excerpt proved of great help. Obviously Mr. Weasley wouldn't have produced a nice sound, his fingers didn't look the same as the wizard modeling the different hand positions. He had simply strung his left hand of fingers across all 6 strings at a time. Precariously, Ron pick up the guitar and held like the book had shown and placed his fingers in one of the positions. He strummed lightly and a nice sound came out, it was described in the book as being call a _chord_. Ron's face let out a small grin before he tried another, and another. 

Molly Weasley grinned outside the door.

~

The pleasantness in the Weasley home lasted only a few days before Ron was back to his grouchy mood. Only now, his only source of amusement was the guitar, to which he was actually progressing. Small tunes trickled out his door and downstairs. Some were happy, as though he was just trying to learn new things. Others were angry, like nothing any of the Weasley's had heard before. 

"I suppose it's good that he has this emotional outlet now, then. Instead of keeping it bottled up." Said Mrs. Weasley, but her face was doubtful. 

When she'd come upstairs to see him he was either sleeping, strumming at the guitar, or writing something furiously at his desk… which he hid whenever the door opened. 

One day, however, when Mrs. Weasley's curiosity had gotten the better of her and Fred and George had finally convinced Ron to retreat from his room and play Quidditch in the yard, she snuck in, rummaging around his small desk. Lucky for her, he'd only laid it in the first drawer. She grasped the paper and held it out far enough so her again eyes could read the rapidly scribbled words. Her eyes softened at the words. It looked like a poem, but she knew better. Her son had, on more than one occasion insisted that poetry was for girls. No, instead it looked something like lyrics, which is what she supposed they were taking in his newly found talent for the muggle guitar. She read the words over once more.

Lately I've been wishing I had one desire   
Something that would make me never want another   
Something that would make it so that nothing matters   
All would be clear then   
But I guess I'll have to settle for a for a few brief moments   
Watch it all dissolve into a single

second   
Try to write it down into a perfect sonnet   
Or one foolish line   
Cause that's all that you'll get   
So you'll have to accept   
You are here and then you're gone   
But I believe that lovers should be tied together   
Thrown into the ocean in the worst of weather   
Left there to drown   
Left there to drown in their innocence….

The words left off. She figured that he'd not been able to think of anymore. 'My poor, Ron' she thought to herself. He wasn't just missing his friends. His heart was aching with what seemed a burning jealousy or something of the sort. 

Quietly, she left the room, her own heart aching for her son. 

~

'Dear Ron,' he read after tearing open the small envelope and ripping the page out of it. 'How's your summer been so far? I've just gotten back from Bulgaria. It was so interesting to see the history of the country, to know what life is like for people in other countries. It was all brilliant and fascinating, I wish I could travel more. Viktor showed me around, you know I think he was quite pleased when you asked for his autograph at the end of the year. He told me he'd been sensing some hostile feelings from you and was quite confused. I explained that you were just thinking of Harry, as you told me… Anyway, well now I'm home and relaxing. My hands are getting quite cramped with all the writing I've been doing today. I had to write Viktor to tell him I'd gotten home alright and ask him if he was coming up for a visit to Hogwarts anytime next year, and then there was Harry… I'm so worried about him Ron, with the Dursely's and the emotional battle going on inside him… he went through so much… and every time I think of Cedric Diggory my eyes well up with tears, anyway… I shouldn't be rambling so… Ron, how are you? I miss being at Hogwarts with everyone… I haven't many muggle friends; they find me a bit odd. I'd really love a reply. Love From, Hermione.'

His eyes moved rapidly across the paper. He sat down at him desk and pulled out a quill and a piece of parchment.

'Hermione,' he began. 'So you ended up going to Bulgaria after all?' He grunted with a sense of bitterness. She'd gone on so about _Viktor_. From the way he read things, it looked as though he'd been last on her mind to write to… gritting his teeth he went on, 'I'm glad you had fun.' His mouth tightened, that wasn't entirely true. 'I'm alright, I'm learning how to play am acoustic guitar that my dad brought home.' The most triumphant part of his summer so far. 'I miss my friends at Hogwarts but I certainly do not miss the class and my bad marks. I'm not much of a writer so if you'll forgive my short letter. –Ron'

He sighed and sent it back with the owl that had dropped off her letter, then reached into his drawer for a familiar piece of paper on which he bore his soul. He read over the beginning, and picked up the guitar… plucking out something every once in a while and then writing as the ideas poured from his mind.

But as for me I'm coming to the final chapter   
I read all of the pages and there's still no answer   
Only all that was before I know must soon come after   
That's the only way it can be   
So I stand in the sun   
And I breathe with my lungs   
Trying to spare me the weight of the truth 

If, in his heart of hearts, he was really true to himself he knew how felt. He was in love with Hermione, and jealousy raged within… these lyrics, that simply seemed to pop onto the page, proved them to him. He continued.

  
Saying everything you've ever seen was just a mirror   
You've spent your whole life sweating in an endless fever   
And laying in a bathtub full of freezing water  
Wishing you were a ghost   
But once you knew a girl and you named her "Lover"   
Danced with her in kitchens through the greenest summer   
But autumn came, she disappeared, you can't remember   
Where she said she was going to  
But you know that she's gone   
Cause she left you a song   
That you don't want to sing   
Singing, I believe that lovers should be chained together   
Thrown into a fire with their songs and letters   
Left there to burn   
Left there to burn in their arrogance 

It had taken him 3 hours to come up with all that. Feeling stirred, but satisfied with tears in his eyes, he put the quill down and once again picked up the guitar, trying to sing along, stopping every once in a while to set the right syllables with the right rhythm and melody. His voice broke with emotion sometimes, but playing made him feel better about his current situation. 

Again Molly Weasley lingered outside her son's door, for she'd been very worried. Her face showed a tight frown at the sniffles she heard inside. Then she determinedly walked downstairs and into the kitchen with her own quill and piece of parchment.

~

"Oh, I'm so glad you've come!" Mrs. Weasley grinned. "I was getting so worried, Ron's been up in his room all summer playing angsty music on that guitar of his." 

The teenager before her smiled gently. 

"He didn't look too upset when we departed at Kings Cross, but I'm worried too…" they said.

"Well then, set your stuff down. Go on up and surprise him!" Mrs. Weasley grinned, more widely this time. 

They nodded doing just that, and walking lightly up the stairs to the door at the very top, which was slightly open. He heard music and someone was singing. Guessing it was Ron, they leaned in a bit and watched him ferociously playing hard at his guitar.

"…..But as for me I'm coming to my final failure,   
I've killed myself with changes trying to make things better.   
And ended up becoming something other   
than what I had planned to be,  
All right! "

Ron stopped abruptly. The teen grinned inwardly to themselves. 

"Don't stop now, emo boy!" Ron's brow furrowed as he turned. 

"Harry!" he shrieked, jumping up and clamping the boy on the back. Harry laughed, as they separated.

"I just don't have the last stanza yet…" he started, then Ron's face screwed up in confusion. "Emo boy?" he asked.

"Oh! It's just an American term I've heard, emotional music basically…" His grin wryly and pointed to the paper in Ron's hand. "What's this? Poetry?" he asked.

"No! I…" but before he could finish, Harry'd grabbed the paper from his friend, his eyes quickly scanned the paper.

"I've been burgled!" cried Ron.

Harry's eyes were sincere. "I want to show you something." He said, reaching for his own paper in his back pocket.

'Dear Harry,' It read. Ron recognized the handwriting as that of Hermione's. 'How've you been? I've been worried about you. Please at least tell me that you've scared those Dursely's into giving you a break. Anyway, I just got home from Bulgaria… very fascinating… Well, kind of. Viktor was so nice to show me around, but it was weird, you know? He's very smart and very nice, and he seems to like me a lot. I don't know why though, I only like him as a friend, but he's always saying stuff to me…. I hope he doesn't come back to Hogwarts next year, to tell you the truth. Too much drama, I don't know how happy Ron would be. Of course, he did have that change of heart back before we left for home. Maybe he'd be disappointed… I don't know. Actually, I wished he was there the whole time Viktor was showing me around. At least then our adventures would be filled with fun and laughter. And I felt like… every time Viktor put his hand on my knee or his arm around my shoulder… I can't believe I'm telling you this… I wished Ron was there to get jealous and punch him or something. OK, I'm rambling. My letters seem to be full of rambling lately. I think it has to do with this funny feeling. Thinking about being with Viktor makes me sick but being with someone else, er… I think I've said enough. Anyway, I hope you're be treated well. I miss you and Ron, you're my very best friends…. Love From, Hermione.' Ron's eyes sparkled slightly and his mouth twisted into a smile. 

Harry woke him from his reverie. "Hey, chap. Will you play that song for me?" he grinned. Ron only nodded and picked up the guitar.

He played the intro and soon the words flowed out of his mouth, lacking as much bitterness as had been there before. The last stanza of the song seemed to come right to him.  
  
"…I believe that lovers should be draped in flowers,   
And laid entwined together on a bed of clover.  
Left there to sleep,   
Left there to dream of their happiness…" 

The music faded and Harry sent a knowing glance. Ron, without words, picked up another piece of parchment.

'Dear Hermione,' he wrote. 'Would you like to come spend the rest of the summer at the Burrow with Harry and I? I've got to play you this new song I've written on my guitar.' He smirked to himself as he finished. 'Love From, Ron'

Then Pigwidgeon was out the window, the letter tied securely to his leg, leaving the two boys behind. Ron's eyes were bright and his smile wider than it had been all summer. Harry smirked and pulled him downstairs to the kitchen, he was looking thin and too pale for summertime. 

End

Like I said, It was my first Harry Potter, so go easy on me. I appreciate reviews!!

Sarimi


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